Untamed Magics
by Naquiel
Summary: A Dungeons and Dragons / Ranma 1/2 crossover. Beware, I base the D&D world and everything in it on the Movie and my imagination. The whole concept of the WereDragons is mine. Although I have heard that the title name has been used before. ^_^;
1. Untamed Magics Prologue

Untamed Magics Prologue  
Dungeons and Dragons crossover with Ranma 1/2  
by Naquiel  
  
Disclaimer - Ranma and 'Dungeons and Dragons: the Movie' don't belong to me so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: Any details that are mentioned may not be in following with the true Dungeons and Dragons RPG, but is based on what happened during the movie, and what was mentioned in it. I shall be making a lot of it up (particularly about Dragons,) as I go along. For those avid fans of the RPG, I am sorry if this disconcerts you in any way, or, in any way, offends those who prefer the RPG or an unpolluted storyline from the movie: without added parts from the author!  
  
~~~~#~~~~  
Chapter 0  
  
Ranma is so small, thought Nodaka, sitting in her garden, with her year old baby wrapped in a sheet of white linen, in her arms. What sort of man will he become? She pondered. Will he be kind or gentle, or a rough yet cuddly personality? She could never see him as a monster, but she feared. She feared for the safety of her son. Three years ago she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, she didn't survive her first year. The fear of losing him before he could become 'him' still flowed like ice down her spine, whenever she thought of it.  
She drew the bundle in closer and kissed the small forehead before holding him tightly, weeping tears of fear and remembered pain.  
"Oh, Kami. Whoever will answer, protect my son. Please," her whispered prayer flew through the still air. Unnoticed to her, her child's closed eyes shone pure white for a few moments, the light shining from the slight gap between eyelids and making the flesh glow rosy pink.  
  
Three years later, found Nodaka crying, wept her heart out. She was on the floor, with her head in her hands, a piece of paper floating down to the glazed floorboards. On the paper was a promise made in innocence by a four year old and used in a cruel and manipulative way by his 'father.'  
Nodaka wept: for the loss of both her Son and a memory of a beautiful man, who gave her such a beautiful child.   
It was five years since she saw him, walking cockily down the street, in faded jeans and a denim vest over a white dress-shirt. His shoulder-length pitch-black hair flaring out behind him. He spotted her almost immediately, the shy, demure and awkward daughter of Kistoro Nakamuki, Patriarch of the Nakamuki clan. He wasn't put-off in the slightest by the fact she was married. He was charming and kind, if, oh-so mysterious; and eventually she fell in love with him. Then he left, leaving her unknowingly pregnant.  
She didn't blame him as such, she still cherished his memory and relived that love every time she saw her darling little boy, but now, he was gone. Both of them were gone and she felt so very, very alone.  
  
Two years later, in a place so far away, yet surprisingly close, in an empire called Izmer, in the capital city, Sumdall, the Empress was in counsel with fifteen Mages, sixteen knights and representatives from the Elves.  
The Empress stroked her royal sceptre nervously. Something important was going discussed, that was obvious due to the number of High Mages and Knights.  
"Please, do tell as to why this counsel was summoned, Izacrat!" asked the Empress of the eldest and wisest mage in the recreated Council of Mages.  
"Yes, your Majesty. There has an increasing amount of Dragon attacks, throughout our kingdom, and stories of similar occurrences from our neighbours have also been received.   
"We believe that these unprovoked Dragon attacks are due to an imbalance created during the battle with Prophion, with the, loses on both the Gold and Red dragons, being the direct cause of the imbalance, along with a time-delayed effect from the Great War, five hundred years ago. We have researched the topic and believe there maybe a few spells, which could be used to calm this balance, however it will only work for a few days at best. Although we can do little to assist the balance ourselves, our Elven friends' believe there is an answer in their legends and histories!"  
The aged Mage sat down and an elf that appeared middle-aged, but was probably well into his hundreds, stood up. "Your Majesty, my name is Ovand" he started in a typically eleven melodic and calm tone. "We Elves as you know are a lot older than most races and have retained knowledge from ages long forgotten by many other species, bar Dragons, of course.   
"We remember a race of most powerful and wise beings, called WereDragons. How they came to be, perhaps only Dragons themselves know, but these people were as ancient as we were, and truly immortal, just as Dragons. Age and disease could not kill them, only accidents or murder.   
"Each WereDragon was born to a particular 'clan,' to a type of dragon, Gold, Red, Blue, so forth. They could talk to any dragon of the same clan, but only that kind and they had the power to transform into Dragons, or various steps between their 'human' form and their draconian form, but always retained great physical power in whatever form.   
"The ability that they had, that was particularly notorious, however, was the power to 'bond' with a Dragon. The process gave them the power to communicate over long distance and share emotions, memories, sensations, and thoughts.   
"Using their gift of Dragon-speech, they acted as mediators between humanity, elves, Dragons and so forth, even as mediators for the Dragons' own internal conflicts.  
"They didn't always bear children that had their gifts: the reason they were in such short number and only had one actual colony.  
"The non-WereDragons were essentially human-elf hybrids, as the first WereDragons were originally humans and Elves. They lived long and well, even by elven standards, despite the lack of immortality. They became farmers and protectors of the Clan's lands, just as the WereDragons guarded the Dragons and helped shape the first political structures.  
"Five hundred years ago, one of the hybrids; became jealous of his brother's and sisters, those with the gift. He went from their lands and managed to initiate an empire-wide fear of the WereDragons. One fearful duke managed to collect a large army. They wiped the WereDragons from our world.   
"The Dragons, both bonded and un-bonded, wiped the Duke from the face of the Empire, along with his army and the jealous hybrid.   
"Since then, the natural balance of nature has been, how do you humans say, ah, 'touch and go,' with Dragons attacking each other, due to unsolved personal vendettas and inter-clan frictions, and those deaths are now, not being balanced with an equal amount of births.   
"We are only now seeing the effects of this cultural disturbance. The reaction of the Great War, and the Battle of the Dragons only two years ago, is what we are now seeing."  
"Yes, yes," said one of the Mages impatiently. "How does all this help us if the WereDragons are all dead!"  
The Elf frowned at the man, causing him to sweat, despite the coolness of the room. "It helps us, because they foretold their own destruction, they knew what was coming. They gave, one of our own, a scroll explaining this, explaining their regret at what had happened, and their knowledge that we would require the scrolls' prophesises.  
The first prophesy; is that of the Great War; and that of the Battle of the Dragons..."  
"Wait," commanded the Empress. "You knew the Great War and the Battle of the Dragons, were going to happen three hundred years in advance of the Great War and five hundred years in advance, for the Battle of Dragons. Why didn't you tell us!"  
"Well," said the Elf reassuringly at the enraged woman. "The scroll was explicit in saying, unless the two wars happened, there would be an even worse future for everyone."  
The Empress still seethed, but to a lesser degree. "Well, kindly tell us how this scroll helps us!"  
The elf was glad for the change in topic. "The scroll has a second prophesy; about a new breed of WereDragon, starting with a young man. The young man is prophesied to wield the power to communicate to all dragons, to dance through space, and the power to free and forcefully control an ancient and most deadly breed of Dragons, called Hydras."  
"Hydras?" asked the Empress.  
"Yes. They were explained in the last part of the scroll." explained the Ovand. "Apparently, originally, there were no set species of Dragons, there were thousands of different species. Many dying and being born in moments, when the world began, until the world, and therefore, Dragons, began to solidify into something better adapted to what the world was making itself into.  
"A number of races of Dragons came into being and survived this time of upheaval, evolution and chaos: Golds, Reds, Blues, Greens, Greys, Blacks, and finally, Hydras.  
"The Hydras were objects of fear to the demons and darker forces that had been born in our world at that time. Hydra-flame was the personification of purifying fire, destroying and killing all that got in it's way, even other Dragons and especially Demons!  
"Hydras were ridiculously loyal to their Dragon brethren, willing to die for their people. Even more so to destroy those which would dream of taking advantage of any Dragon, they were also ridiculous protective of Dragon Eggs. Protecting them like a treasure greater than we can dream.   
"Physically, Hydras were nine headed Dragons, larger than any other kind, with large wings and the ability to talk to people through their minds without a bonding process, but lacking the range of the bonded version of the thought communication.  
"The aforementioned Demons and dark forces managed to conspire to trap all the Hydras in a bubble of reality. They used illusion and prayed upon their protective instincts for their Dragon-kin. They were all trapped.   
"The other Dragons managed to destroy the dark item that the Demons used to open the portal. The item itself was useless to them, as they couldn't use it to free their kin, but could stop the Demons from using it to trap other Dragons."  
"Ah," stated the Empress, understanding the painful that that choice must have felt for those free Dragons. "So, this boy, where is he? Is he born yet? How are we supposed to take what you have told us forward?"  
Ovand frowned thoughtfully and looked at his copy of the ancient scrolls. "Apparently, the WereDragons, sent a single child through some sort of dimensional barrier, with a pendant which suppressed the child's powers. The young man in the prophesy is a descendant of this WereDragon. The scroll does come with a lock of the child's hair and a suggestion: 'look not for wisdom, but innocence.' It isn't any clearer than that."  
Throughout the elf's entire explanation of the scroll and it's relevance the old mage, Izacrat, had listened intently. When Ovand came to the last part, the hair and the suggestion, a little memory tugged at the back of Izacrat's mind. A spell, no, a scroll, no, it was something theoretical, what was it, aha!  
"Your Majesty," exclaimed the old, wise man. "I believe that I know what it is that the WereDragons are trying to tell us through the scroll, in relation to finding the young boy in question!"  
The Empress smiled at the old man's youthful enthusiasm. The body may age, but his heart was that of a boy! "Please, go ahead."  
"It is in relation to a theory that I read once when I was a mere boy of thirty." There was a small chuckle all around, except from Ovand. "The theory was that there were a number of worlds, super-imposed upon our own, separated by an impassable dimensional barrier. One of these other worlds was believed to have a very thin barrier between this world and it, one that could be passed through at certain points, and places in the worlds! It is possible that it is this reality that the child was sent to!"  
"Yes, but how does that help us when we don't know how to get to it?" asked the same mage that interrupted Ovand.  
"Well, normally it wouldn't help us at all!" said Izacrat nonchalantly, and then chuckled like a schoolboy. "Except for the fact that the theory came with map of believed points in the world where a portal could be achieved! It would take a few days but I believe that if we work around the clock we could create a summoning circle that will relay it's magic through all of these apparent weaknesses in the barrier. It is a good bet that at least one of these points will work, if the theory holds water of course!"  
"But what has that got to do with the actual search, we don't know what we are looking for!" said the same annoying Mage.  
"Actually, we do. I would be willing to bet that the lock of hair has enough spiritual residue for us to use it to narrow the search down to a family tree. The phrase 'look not for wisdom, but innocence,' may mean, for us to look for the youngest, not the oldest of the family tree for the prophesied individual. It could work, Your Majesty, and I would have to recommend that we make every attempt to summon this individual, during the small window the balancing spells can give us! If we succeed, his ability to communicate to the dragons may be enough to establish a period of indefinite peace. Perhaps long enough to allow the Dragons to heal, and for us to become better prepared to fight a similar threat in the future!"  
The Empress took her time to think it over. By committing resources to one action, it could prove disastrous, if it didn't work. But was there any other thing that she could do? She thought, with no doubt, that there was nothing else that had the chance to work in the time they had.  
"Do what you have too!"  
  
Three days later: found a young child curled up in foetal position in his torn sleeping bag. His bruised and beaten body, leaking blood from a handful of cuts, was giving only a slight freedom with his pain due to the softness of the battered piece of camping equipment.  
The little Ranma cried silently into the unheeding night, to busy with it's own mourning to notice his. He had to be careful; to bottle his tears until night came, else his father would become very angry with him for crying, and would hurt him!  
To Ranma, crying at night was easy, the sadness shining from the star's beauty, the mourning black of the heavens, the cool touch of the passing breezes, like deaths comfort and most of all, at night he could remember 'her' better. His memories of his mother were clearest at night, and cherished dearly. The clearest memory of them all was a memory was, her smiling, kind, youthful face above him as he was in his crib, with her humming a little song, that made him feel so sleepy and warm.  
He closed his eyes and whispered a small prayer to see his mother again some day, and feel into the soft cushion of oblivion, his eyes glowing pure white, turning his eyelids rosy pink as the light shone through.  
Around him, a soft circle of mist was forming. When the mist solidified into a circlet of white energy, other symbols appeared, both within and without it. In a brief flash of light the child disappeared, leaving only his clothes and sleeping bag. The circle, and the symbols, shrunk inward until they disappeared in a rain of sparks.  
Nearby, an astonished, and rather fat, man; stood in shock, staring at the sight, long after it had ended. 


	2. Untamed Magics Chapter 1

Untamed Magics Chapter 1  
Dungeons and Dragons crossover with Ranma 1/2  
by Naquiel  
  
Disclaimer - Ranma and 'Dungeons and Dragons: the Movie' don't belong to me so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: Any details that are mentioned may not be in following with the true Dungeons and Dragons RPG, but is based on what happened during the movie, and what was mentioned in it. I shall be making a lot of it up (particularly about Dragons,) as I go along. For those avid fans of the RPG, I am sorry if this disconcerts you in any way, or, in any way, offends those who prefer the RPG or an unpolluted storyline from the movie: without added parts from the author!  
  
~~~~#~~~~  
Chapter 1  
  
The Empress looked on dispassionately, as she nervously thought of the many, many ways this could go wrong. She was in a comfortably large room, with rouge drapes and gold leaf outlining panels, depicting beautiful murals of Heroes, and Dragons. In front of her, Izacrat and his apprentices were busy adding the final touches to the circle.  
As she waited for them to be ready she thought back to when she asked Izacrat, why something similar hadn't been attempted in the past.   
"Well," he had said. "The researcher had quite some bad blood with another mage, who despised him with a fierce passion.   
"When he discovered other interesting things that he was going to publish, and hence gain great favour in the eyes of the council. The poor man was killed by the rival mage, who also made sure that the only copy, which included the summoning circle and the overlapping-worlds theory, was put into storage, where it wouldn't likely be found for quite some time.   
"The murderer was discovered and hanged, but the book was missing for ages since, until two, three centuries ago. Since then, no one has really been interested in one obscure theory to 'waste' the effort to prove it.   
"We can only hope that the theory and the circle will work. As it hasn't ever been applied in practice, no one knows what will happen, myself least of all!" after that he had continued on his work on the circle.  
The Empress relaxed a little and sighed. Whatever happened, she hoped that her people would not be harmed.  
Izacrat came up to her on her throne, and coughed lightly to gain her attention. "We are ready, Your Highness! The knights and Mages have already been summoned by one of my assistants."  
The Empress nodded, acknowledging the necessity of both Mages, and knights to fend off any dark or dangerous force that the summoning could accidentally bring, instead of the WereDragon child.  
"Tell me, Izacrat. What will happen if we succeed?" she asked the old man, with more than a touch of nervousness.  
The aged mage sighed and slouched slightly like the world was on his shoulders. "The pendant given to the baby who was sent into that parallel world, both disguises and suppresses the WereDragon powers. The pendant, will work on an entire bloodline if worn by someone of that lineage, two weeks if not worn, the limitation is two-fold. Someone who is aware and constantly uses their WereDragon powers, are immune to its effects, and it can only effect the lineage in the world where it is present.  
"Therefore, if the child is still under the effect of the pendants magic, as soon as it comes here, it..."  
"He."  
"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?" asked a confused Izacrat.  
"The legends said it would be a young man," the Empress pointed out.  
"Oh. Oh, yes." Izacrat continued. "As soon, as he, comes here, his inheritance will surge and awaken. He will gain all of the prophesised powers and the WereDragon powers, that is if he is the prophesised Draconian negotiator!"  
"Will it hurt him?" she asked gently.  
"No, well, perhaps. I can't be certain!" stated the old man.  
At that moment, the knights, protectors of the people, and the Mages, scholars and healers, filed into the room. The stood in a circle around the large summoning circle, with swords, daggers, staffs, wands, magiced gloves and an assortment of magical and warrior armaments.  
"Are you all ready?" she asked of the warriors and wizards.  
Most nodded, replied yes, while some didn't speak, their determination obvious in their faces.  
The Empress looked to Izacrat. "You may begin!"  
The old sorcerer took a vile of purple fluid from within his robes and threw it into the bare centre of the circle, where it smashed, the fluid running along the ground.   
Soon, the purple fluid became white gas, like fog, that hovered above the entire pattern. The gas condensed into a large circlet with various symbols made of the gas both within and without the circle. The circlet condensed its pattern, shrinking above the centre of the pattern.  
The gaseous circlet became a globe the size of a boy's hand. After a few seconds a single small light appeared within. Then, without warning, the globe expanded back into the circlet and it's patterns, and exploded outwards in a soundless wave of dissipating gas that rolled around the room's floor before dissipating entirely.  
All those present focused their attention to the centre of the summoning circle. There a small, olive-skinned boy lay in foetal position. They could easily see his small, nude body had some nasty wounds for a young child.  
The knights, Mages and the Empress relaxed and became more curious, than their previous state of nervousness.  
Then the child began to glow blue. A hazy light that surrounded his small form and rose up like a blue bonfire.  
Three Mages stepped forward to help, along with five knights.  
"Stop, fools," roared Izacrat. "Do not cross the circle. His power is awakening. The circle will protect us from his unfocused power. He will be unharmed, but you would be killed if you go near him!"  
The small child floated gently upwards. He posture changed, from foetal to spread-eagled. All present could see his malnutrition and other wounds, scars, bruises yet to fade, fist shaped bruises that looked very fresh, and they could see that his body was very dirty and soiled, his hair tangled and his nails bitten.  
Most there were shocked at the condition of the child, some actually felt a little queasy, the remaining individual were imagining immensely painful, decade-long, punishments to who-ever did that to the child!  
The sapphire-blue 'fire' that surrounded him was next to noiseless, making only a slight rustle, that made sure the could hear every bone in the boys body grinding, crunching, realigning, in a series of very horrendous noises. The fire burnt away the dirt and healed his open, weeping wounds. His bruises disappeared, fading into nothing, and his body grew into a taller, leaner, more refined form. His hair flew all over the place due to the energy, it created a halo of midnight black around his head, if he was being seen from above, and at the same time the hair took on silver highlights.  
The 'fire' grew, and changed into something else, a sort of latent emerald glow that surrounded the child, flashing with white lightening and streamers of blue polarised energy.  
Then, his body changed. The poor boy was conscious now and feeling the changes in his body; struggled vainly against the power. His body switched from horizontal to vertical, still spread-eagled, his body outlined in light, and energy.  
He let out a soundless scream, as his body changed, slowly at first than more rapidly. He grew claws on his hands, which, became sheathed in silver and white scales. He grew taller, his feet changing dramatically, the ankles being way further up that natural, with a clawed toe sticking out backwards from it, his feet only possessing four toes, each with claws on the ends instead of normal nails. His feet were scaled, also. His bare chest grew broader, scales growing on it as well, his torso extended, a long whip-like tail grew from the base of his spine, his legs grew longer and stronger, as did his arms. On his head grew two silver horns that came from the centre, growing around either side of his head, and straight on, in swept-back fashion, as did the two pairs of horns behind and above his ears. His eyes became cat-like, and large draconian wings grew from his back. Gradually the changes; sped up until they had a full-grown white and silver Dragon in front of them, held aloft by the energy field, it's wide wingspan, passing through the circle, unaffected.   
The Dragon was large and beautiful, with soft pastel sky-blue, edging the scales of white and silver marble. Four horns protruded from the back of his skull; and a ridge of small horns ran from between his eyes, along his scaly snout, to end at the nose, with a final larger horn to end. His pointed ears were swept back and tipped with a tiny horn, below his nostrils, and to the side, were a pair of horns the pointed forwards, as did a similar pair protrude from his Dragon-form's high cheekbones. At the crest each of his large leathery wings, a small claw rested, ready to grab and slice. His shoulders were protected from sword slashes or such-like by a series of small horns, similar protection existed on his knees. His long thick tail; was ridged on either side with a line of small horns, and ended with a larger hard piece of tail that was to Dragons what maces were to man.  
Slowly the energy surrounding the large Dragon faded to a pale turquoise, and his large form dropped silently to the ground, a dumbfounded and frightened expression on his face.  
All present were frozen in indecision and awe, or fear. The Dragon turned around, slowly, and looked at those around him. Then he saw the Empress, on her throne, and the old mage, Izacrat beside her.  
The Empress; rose regally from her throne and marched down, her Royal Sceptre of golden Dragon control, in her delicate hands. She approached the Dragon without any fear. She stood before him and reached out and placed her hand on his muzzle, then she spoke.  
"Child, you are most possibly the salvation of our world. I must as for you to assist us. Will you help us?" to her credit, her voice did not shake in the slightest, despite the emotion that she felt: despair, hope, and, aye, fear.  
Ranma could only nod his massive head in an affirmative, still uncertain and unsure, but understanding the duty of a martial artist to protect those weaker than oneself.   
  
Once the Mages and knights had been dismissed to go around their duties, given thanks for their help, Izacrat began to explain to Ranma, still in his Draconian form, what he was.  
"... Now, as the forces of magic have been severely unbalanced, any more pressure on that balance may be our undoing. A single Dragon killed will be a great blow to the balance, and now it cannot sustain any more blows without any healing. New Dragons to counter-balance the dead Dragon and heal the balance. Originally, your kind helped create and maintain a balance within the Dragons. Your kind also prophesised your existence, stating in their legends that you would possess certain powers that no other WereDragon could hope to possess: the power to 'dance through space', to communicate to all Dragons, instead of being limited to one clan, or kind of Dragon. Your final prophesised power, if you are the prophesised boy, is the ability to free and control an ancient, previously unknown kind of Dragon. They are called Hydras..." He went on to explain in careful detail, everything that was written on the scrolls, the lock of hair and the clue, the method in which they summoned him. He also told him the impossibility of repeating the spell, due to the fact that it overtaxed the overlaps between their two worlds. However he also said that he believed the power to 'dance through space' may have the power to traverse through the dimensional barrier.  
For many hours Izacrat talked to Ranma, about the nature of magic, Dragons, Mages, knights, and so forth. Basic general information, about this new world he had found himself in. Ranma managed to get the point across that he wanted to become human again, however Izacrat knew little or nothing about the actual means that WereDragons used to transform.  
"...I do however have some scrolls about regular lycanthropy, perhaps they are similar enough to give some clues!" Ranma sighed as the old man went out of the room, eager as a schoolboy. He was so confused about this whole business, despite the old man's one-sided discussion. He felt trapped, and lonely, and... really hungry.  
  
Anna was a kitchen brat. Her mother was a cook. Her father was an unknown. Her mother cared for her, but rarely had the time to show her affection. She helped her mother, she fetched things and helped clean up afterwards. She wasn't sure how old she was, but she didn't think it mattered, but if she was been asked, she answered 'six'. Did the fact she didn't have a father mean that she couldn't have kids when she was older, pondered the immature mind of the small, average girl.  
"Anna. Get us some flour, wud ya luv?" asked Anna's mother, Mary, as she used her strong arms to pound and fold a sheet of dough.  
Anna jumped of her seat in the corner, with two other kitchen brats, her twin brother, and the daughter of one of the maids, asleep in the same corner. "Aye, mam."   
Anna ran the whole fifty yards towards a pinewood door, that she hastily opened. After that was a small hallway, with two doors, one to the upper reaches of the palace, where the royalty lived. The other was the pantry, a large 'L' shaped room filled with food: jam, flour, milk, cheese, meats, and fruit.  
Anna went to the pantry door with childish enthusiasm empowering her. She was about to open the door, when she noticed it was ajar. She fearlessly peaked in, to see who was inside.  
Whoever it was making quite a bit of noise, around the corner of the room.   
Anna's temper flared. She bet it was Quinn, a posh snob who was of the very lowest nobility someone can be without not-being a noble at all. He was always in her when he thought he couldn't get caught. She had caught him more than once doing this, and she had soundly belted him, and saw him out of the pantry. However, the boy was as stubborn as she was, and returned to raid the pantry again.  
Maybe her mother could deal with him!  
Anna promptly turned face and went from the pantry to the hall, and then to the kitchen.  
"Mam," squealed Anna, at her plump, matronly mother, "A boy's in the pantry. He's makin' all sorts o' noise!"  
Her mother's face hardened. To her the kitchen, and by relation, the pantry, were more sacred than any temple. She put down her worked dough, and picked up a rolling pin. The other two kids were awake and had heard Anna. They decided to follow the enraged cook, and Anna, for the mere entertainment. They both assumed that it was Quinn as they had caught him in the act as many times as Anna.  
The foursome of kitchen servents went through to the hall, and collectivly went into the Pantry. The matronly cook never missing a step.  
The all turned the corner in the room and stood frozen at the sight.  
Onto one side was a pile of animal bones from the carcasses that once lined the walls of the cool room, bottles of liquor and cider were broken, shattered on the ground, or empty with broken seals, obviously drunk. But all this wasn't what gained their attention. No, what gained their attention was the gigantic mostly-silver Dragon in front of them, that had hastily turned upon their entrance, with a cow's carcass half-way into its' mouth.  
The lizard let out a few ground-shaking roars.  
If they understood the verbal form of draconian communication, they would have heard him say, "I'm Ranma Saotome. Sorry about this!" As it was, they didn't.   
Hence, they screamed! 


End file.
